


Sometimes I wonder if it's even you up there, smiling all day and night

by mandaree1



Series: it ain't technically a baby draft if they're your kids [8]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Blood and Gore mentioned, Invisibility Powers, Michelle's a spy in the Horde, Michelle's the daughter of Bow and Glimmer btw, Overprotective Aunt Catra, War flashbacks, fan kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 13:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17768081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaree1/pseuds/mandaree1
Summary: Glimmer gets hurt. Michelle stares at the mural of King Micah and feels inferior.





	Sometimes I wonder if it's even you up there, smiling all day and night

Michelle's known invisibility her whole life. She's used it to her advantage from day one, from pulling pranks to spying on the Horde. She's seen things no one else would thanks to it- murder and love and loss. But there's a difference between the quiet loneliness her powers can give her, and the kind she feels as people are rushing from person to person in the med bay. Her tunic is splattered with blood, and her hair is missing a few patches, and she kind of just wants to sleep and also maybe fall comatose? But then her body would get in the way, and doctors would have to move or step on her, and Michelle hates both those options equally. If spying has taught her anything, it's not to trust yourself in the hands of strangers.

She's not sure exactly when Aunt Catra had come up next to her. One second she was alone- the next, the ex-Horde strategist had their shoulders brushing. She said nothing. She didn't even look at her. She simply offered Michelle her presence and hoped it was enough, ears flat. She studied the old scar on Catra's shoulder.

"I did this," Michelle whispered, numb. Her eyes felt too dry to worry about crying.

She didn't bother trying to make her feel better; knew she wouldn't feel better for some time yet, if ever. "You spied on the Horde. That's a big accomplishment. Even if this battle was a fail, it's proof that they're scared."

She shook the concept away, staring at her bloody clothes. The Horde soldier was dead. She almost wished he wasn't. It wasn't right that he got to die so suddenly while everyone she loved suffered on. "Mom got stabbed."

Catra didn't so much as flinch. "I've been stabbed," she replied, shockingly nonchalant. "Five times, actually. I can count eight times off the top of my head for Adora, six of which I did. Your mom will survive."

Michelle pitched forward at the thought, images of blood and agony flashing across her mind. Aunt Catra had been raised in a place soaked in death and war, but she hadn't, and these constant missions had been hard on her. And now her mother was in surgery. Now she might die.

A medic stepped closer to help, only to be chased away by a hiss from Catra, the woman's tail spiked aggressively. "If you so much as touch her I will personally run your entrails through a shredder," she announced, drawing Michelle close. "Hey, baby girl, look around. You're in Bright Moon. This place farts sparkles and miracles. Glimmer-"

Michelle can't stand to hear her name. She jerked back, the movement sending a shimmer of sparkles through her dark brown hair. "Lemme go!"

She did so. Something like hurt flashed in Catra's eyes, but there was also understanding. "I can't tell you what to think or feel," she said. "But don't do this. Don't let the Horde take you from yourself."

 _Don't be like me_ , Michelle hears.

Michelle turns and walks away from the shadows in her Aunt's face. Catra watches her go.

* * *

The long stone halls of castle Bright Moon are familiar and winding to Michelle. She's grown used to the tight, awkward spaces she's been forced to cram in over the years to spy, behind boilers or pressed against cold metal walls, but the castle is stone and plants and natural light.

After the battle, it's almost sickening.

Michelle crossed her arms around her midsection as she walked, squeezing. She hates the Horde. Hates the scars it's left on her family and world. But she still thinks of it with frightening regularity. She thinks about the trainers, and how they told cadets to notice and correct their mistakes. She thinks about the brutal training methods employed to keep them in line and how she, almost unknowingly, has started to adopt them. She thinks about how most soldiers would rather walk into the unknown then return once they've errored.

She thinks about it and she _understands_ , and that scares her more than seeing that spear explode out of her mother's stomach.

Michelle found herself halting in front of the old portrait of the first Princess Alliance. The paint is crackled and faded over the battles, the treaties, but it's perfectly clear and upkept over and around Micah. The Princess Alliance was slowly being erased out of history, recognizing with shame it own outdatedness, but Micah was never going to age. He was never going to grow old or wise or anything. He'd died long before she was even born. Michelle had been named after him, even, in hopes it would inspire her to create her own spirit and path as he had.

Well, here she is. Was it worth it?

"I spoke to your Aunt here, once," a familiar voice spoke. Michelle didn't turn, watching out of the corner of her eye as Angella slowly crept over to her, staring at the painting with grief older than the sky. "Well, more like threatened. A lot."

"Aunt Catra?"

"Adora." Angella shook her head at herself with a sigh. "Wasn't my finest moment."

Michelle didn't argue that. She leaned on her shoulder. "Grammy, when did things get so messed up? Was it... when he died?"

Spindly fingers curled around her shoulders, pulling her close. An almost translucent wing blanketed Michelle, feeling a bit like a sauna of feathers against her skin. "Long before that, I think." She paused. "Glimmer's out of surgery. She's going to be okay."

Tears _finally_ pricked at the corners of her eyes. She'd believed Catra wholeheartedly, but it felt different when Angella said it. "They named me after him," she whispered, sucking in a deep breath. "You must be so disappointed that it went to some screw-up."

Angella didn't respond immediately. She tucked Michelle under her chin, holding her to her chest the way someone held a glass vase that wasn't theirs- with awe, appreciation, but with care, not wanting to ruin it. "I could never be disappointed in you, darling. You don't have to be like him."

"I know. I know." Michelle's face felt hot as she buried it deeper into Angella's chest. A whining buzz was in her brain, wanting more than anything to escape from her vocal chords. "I don't even know him. I don't- he doesn't _matter to me_ like that. But he... he looks so much like mom..."

Angella's voice was quiet and heavy, carrying the burden of eternity and the wisdom of death. "Yeah. She does."

Michelle didn't look up, but she felt something warm and wet dripping onto her head and knew she was crying. "I'm sorry, Grammy. I almost made you lose her."

She laughed, bittersweet, wiping her cheek with a gloved hand. "Michelle, if you think that I haven't accepted that Glimmer is going to go out fighting, then we must spend more time together." Angella looked up at the mural. "I could tell you stories about him."

"I'd like that," she said, even if she wasn't sure she would. Michelle mostly said it to make Angella feel better. Right now, all she could think of was her bloody tunic, her bloody mother, and her bloody heart.

Angella got down on a knee, a hand on each shoulder. "Want to see her? She probably won't come out of her anesthesia for awhile, but..."

Michelle looked away. The Horde came to mind again. It would be bad of her to walk in on Glimmer at her weakest, wouldn't it? She couldn't control or hide that. And even if the Horde was wrong about a lot of things, that felt understandable to Michelle. She didn't want to see her floundering for blood and survival. She wanted to see her strong and alive and ready to fight again. "I'm good. I'll be here if she wakes up, though."

**Author's Note:**

> Another one for my bud! This is my first time tackling Michelle as someone older and not a baby; she's usually a lot more upbeat than this, of course, but she's been through a lot.
> 
> -Mandaree1


End file.
